by Stacy Borel
“Where are you headed?” I asked.
He met my expression head-on. “Anywhere.”
Uhhh . . . what did that mean? He didn’t have a destination?
Chandler, you took this trip to do something different with your life. Making wrong choices was likely what led you to this crazy-ass mess in the first place so just take the fucking risk.
“Okay.”
I pushed the button and heard the sound of the SUV’s door unlocking. Decision made. Exhaling, I waited on pins and needles for him to open the door and climb inside. There was a brief passing of time that probably only lasted for a few seconds, but I started to think that maybe he’d changed his mind. When the door swung open, little flakes of snow swirled around inside the passenger seat and blew cold air across my face. Oh, my God, he even smelled good. What on Earth was he wearing? As the man climbed in, he tossed his bag in the backseat and rustled around to get comfortable, clearly. I wasn’t appalled by his ability to get comfortable in my car too quickly—it was more like I was baffled by it. He’d done this before.
I must’ve been staring because when he settled in, he turned to look at me. “You going to drive?”
Say what? “Erm . . .” I didn’t know how to respond. So instead of stuttering some more or slurring my words, I pressed on the gas. The car shot forward a little too fast, and we both jerked. I saw him shake his head minutely out of the corner of my eye. Jesus, I needed to relax.
As we rolled ahead on the road, I wondered if I should make small talk. I mean, why not. I’d already gone against every rule I was ever taught. A person I’d never seen before—didn’t even know their name and hadn’t the slightest clue where they were headed—was now sitting in my personal space, and I found myself more curious than afraid of him. I might have wanted to ask him some questions, but instead, I decided I needed to get a grip and remember that this was my car and it was out of my generosity that I picked him up.
“I’m stopping in West Yellowstone for the evening. You can get out there.” I mentally nodded to myself and reached over to turn up my satellite radio.
We rode in silence for a good half an hour while I grilled myself over every possible scenario that could happen. It ranged from my new gorgeous passenger strangling me to death and him burying me in the woods to fucking me in the backseat. I couldn’t deny that I was clearly attracted to him. Of course, if I ever let something like that happen, I’d blame it on temporary insanity. It was not like you could call it a typical one-night stand. Occasionally, the heater would blow his scent over to my side of the vehicle, and I had to force myself not to close my eyes and revel in it. I had no clue what the man was wearing, but it was delicious.
Despite doing everything I could to make sure my eyes remained glued on the road, I could still feel his presence right next to me. I didn’t know how else to describe it, but it was like a buzzing, tingling feeling all over my skin. It felt like he was everywhere; I was hyperaware of him. I sensed where his hands were. I knew when he shifted. I even held my breath when he’d turn that formidable gaze in my direction. My hands were turning white on the steering wheel because I was squeezing the crap out of the ten and two positions in a pathetic attempt to appear in control. Maybe I should talk to him.
What did one even ask a hitchhiker? It was not like there was a book written for this sort of thing. Deciding to start with the basics, I asked an easy one first.
“So,” I cleared my throat, “seeing as how we are stuck together for a little bit, maybe we should at least, I don’t know . . .” I was trying my hardest to prevent my voice from shaking. “Possibly know each other’s names?” Complete dead air. Alrighty. “I’m Chandler.” I glanced over at him and attempted giving him a smile. His dark eyes were watching me in a way no one had ever looked at me before. It was unnerving. I shifted uncomfortably.
As I sat in silence, I wondered how long he was going to make me wait for a response. I waited, and I waited, and I waited some more. I started to realize he did not intend to answer me. Maybe names were a little too personal. Struggling, I decided to go a different route. “So where ya headed?”
Again, I got nothing. I didn’t know what to think about his lack of communication. I wasn’t sure if not speaking was actually the way to go with these sort of things or if he just wasn’t a talker. I was now even more uncomfortable knowing that I literally knew nothing about Mr. Dark and Brooding, but if there was anything about me, it was that I was tenacious and didn’t give up easily. Fine, if he didn’t want to talk to me, then I’d chat his ear off and cross my fingers that he would either feel the desire to chime in or at least tell me to shut up.
“Well, now that you know my name, I guess I’ll just keep talking. It’s been a few days since I’ve had any company, which can actually get somewhat lonely. So it’s nice to finally have someone to listen. That way I don’t feel so much like a crazy person talking to myself.” I grinned. “It was only a couple of days ago that I woke up on a whim and decided that I needed a change of scenery, so I hopped in my SUV and started this wild road trip. I didn’t even know where I was going until yesterday. How crazy is that?” Mr. No Name didn’t need to know all the intimate details as to why I actually left, but I tried to at least stick to half-truths. “Anyway, I suppose it’s been fun so far. I’ve done a couple of touristy things. In fact, I just saw Old Faithful. Have you ever seen it?”
I turned to make eye contact for the first time since I put the car in drive. My mouth dropped open. He was asleep! Uh, okay now that was rude. I was talking, and apparently, my story bored the crap out of him. Well, sir, you would definitely be getting out at the next stop. I was tempted to slam on my brakes and jerk him forward. Or do one of those funny things I saw floating around on Facebook all the time—screaming and startling the crap out of him. But I refrained from both. Because I didn’t know him at all, I couldn’t even begin to gauge how he’d react to something like that, and I wasn’t about to put myself in any more danger than I might already be in.
I continued the rest of the drive in total silence. As we rolled into town, it was dusk and I had been contemplating dropping him off at the first building I saw. Instead, I went till I hit the Holiday Inn and parked the car.
As soon as I shut the vehicle off, he stirred.
“Where are we?” His voice had a raspy gravely quality to it, and damn if it didn’t sound sexy.
“West Yellowstone. I wasn’t sure where you planned on heading to, but this is as far as I can take you.”
Reaching back, he took a hold of his backpack and opened his door. I expected some form of thank you from him or at least an acknowledgment that he was appreciative of the ride. All I got in return was a head nod as he stepped out and shut the door. For the first time in a long time, I felt an emotion I hadn’t felt in a while. Rage. I desperately wanted to chase after him and say, “Hey buddy, how about a ‘thank you’?” But, instead, I huffed out a loud sigh as I got out and hoofed it in the opposite direction toward the building. I grumbled under my breath the whole way inside and all the way to my room. As I lay on my bed, I couldn’t shake how frustrated I was. I mean, first the guy didn’t live up to typical hitchhiker hype by threatening my life and making me a story on the five o’clock news. Then I bored him enough that he fell asleep, and then he couldn’t even muster up two words that would have changed my entire experience with him. What was worse? How crazy I felt for even feeling jaded by expecting something different from him. What a joke. It wasn’t long before I passed out curled up under my warm covers. I dreamed about chocolate colored eyes and a voice that made my insides quiver.
The next morning when I woke up, my mood was complete shit. I needed a whole pot of coffee that I knew I wasn’t going to get and a bottle of Tylenol. I had barely slept a wink and my body felt like it was on edge. When I checked out, the girl at the front desk was entirely too cheery and I might have directed my bitch face a little too harshly in her direction. I knew exactly why my mood was so s
hitty, but I didn’t care to acknowledge it right now.
Grabbing a muffin from the free breakfast buffet, I went outside. The air was brisk, and I’d guess the temps to be in the low thirties. I let my feet slosh through the leftover wet snow that the plow didn’t get in the parking lot and got into my vehicle. Once everything heated up, I pulled away, making my way through town and stopping to fuel up. I decided I was going to perk up and attempt to get back in the same mood I was in yesterday before I let a certain someone dampen my good spirits. I had felt good about my decision to go to the cabin, and even now, I let myself smile over the idea of it.
Even though it was chilly outside, the sun was shining bright and it reflected off all the white surrounding me. Passing the last building, I turned onto the two-lane highway and was about two miles out of town when I saw him up ahead. The hitchhiker from yesterday was once again on my path, directly in front of me. I’d think after last night’s dreams—or nightmares—I would recognize him anywhere. He was wearing the same clothes from before, and his thumb was sticking out in the same fashion. I almost wanted to laugh. Almost. I had a dilemma. The man with no name was trying to get a ride again. But did I want to sit in silence with someone who clearly had an effect on me?
It was a no-brainer. The very thought of seeing those rich colored eyes directed at me set me into overdrive, and I wanted to feel that way again. It was impulsive and stupid. I knew this but didn’t care. Hitting the brakes, I eased off to the side and came to a stop. I could have sworn I saw him shake his head when he saw who it was, but I couldn’t be sure. As he approached the car, I smiled at the upper hand I held.
Rolling down the passenger window, I didn’t stutter this time. “Hey stranger, need a ride?”
“Unlock the door,” he demanded.
And as if he could bend me to do whatever he wanted with those eyes and that voice . . . I did.
AFTER A LONG PAUSE, I rolled my eyes and that earned me a glare. “Have a destination in mind this time?”
He tilted his head watching me thoughtfully then said, “Wherever you’re going.”
Uhhh. . . . My eyes grew wide. I wasn’t taking him to my cabin. No way, no how! He was teasing, right? I wasn’t biting. “Interesting. Well, before you get in, I want one thing.”
He raised his brow, waiting.
“Give me your name.”
“Miss, you don’t need my name to give me a ride.”
“Okay, then.” I rolled up my window determined to get my way. It was all the way up and I had put the Rover in drive, pushing forward a couple of inches before he knocked on the window. I stopped.
When the window went back down, he responded. “Dawson.”
Dawson. I let the name roll through my mind, saying it over and over to myself. Fitting. He looked like a Dawson. Strong name, easy on the eyes, and I’d never met a single man with that name. Perfect.
“Well, Dawson, I’m headed to Big Sky today. I’ll take you into town and drop you off. Not sure what you’ll do there seeing as how it’s a pretty small town, but that’s as far as I go with you.”
I heard a low hum under his breath. Much like the day before, he opened the door and climbed inside, chucking his backpack in the backseat. Once his seatbelt was on, we took off down the road. I fought the urge to smile that I’d won a small battle after how he made me feel yesterday. I now knew the stranger’s name and felt more at ease with that little bit of information at my fingertips. As the silence wore on, I found it to be more comforting than forcing conversation that he clearly wasn’t interested in having. Plus, I wasn’t too sure how my ego would take it if I bored him to sleep for a second time. I had a brief passing thought of shoving him out of my moving vehicle if he had done just that, and I accidentally giggled out loud. He glanced over at me, and I tried to recover quickly by coughing not so subtly.
“Sorry, must’ve swallowed wrong.” Reaching forward, I turned on the radio and tried to hide my reddening face with my hair.
We slowly climbed in altitude and navigated through the windy snow-covered passes. The roads were fairly clear with only a few patches of ice off to the sides. A few songs played through and I took notice of Dawson’s mouth moving to the words but not loud enough for me to hear. I’d only just discovered that I enjoyed that music the day I left Maine. Hmmm, seemed I was learning something else about him. We might just have the same taste in music. Instead of pushing my luck and asking him, I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the road.
It took a little longer than I’d initially planned to hit my halfway point. We’d not seen very much traffic, but I didn’t suspect we would during this time of year. Sure, there was snow on the mountains, but most ski slopes didn’t open until the weekend after Thanksgiving. A low rumble rolled through my stomach, getting my attention that it was time to eat. The next town we hit, I figured we’d stop at whatever diner I could find and grab a quick sandwich and cup of coffee to refuel. These mountains held small stopping points about every ten miles, and thankfully, that was how long it took till we reached a town. Luckily, after another ten miles, I saw a small dive called ‘Forkin’ Spoon.’ Cute, I thought. When we parked, I climbed out and didn’t stand around for him to follow. He could either wait in the car or come inside and join me. It was not like he could take off with anything since I had the keys. I heard the car door shut behind me and I smiled.
Once inside, a short, older gentleman with light blue eyes standing behind the counter told us to seat ourselves. I acknowledged him with a ‘thank you’ and picked a booth in one of the corners. I sat facing out. I didn’t want my position to force me only to look at Dawson, although I wasn’t sure how I felt about him only having me to stare at, either. Ignoring the couple of extra beats that my heart took, I sat down and did my best not to make eye contact.
The seats were red, plastic, and cracked from wear and tear. I could feel the roughness of them through my jeans. All the tables had small jukeboxes against the wall, with old country selections from people like Loretta Lynn and Willy Nelson. I knew country music like the back of my hand, but I wasn’t raised on the older stuff. Throw some Beatles at me and I could sing right along with Paul and Ringo. As I glanced around, the whole place was a mix between a fifties’ drive-in and a western bar. Not sure how they blended it all, but it worked. The old man had walked in the back, and I could see him through the open window in the kitchen. A gray-haired woman with the same blue eyes padded over to our table. She was wearing a blue dress with a white apron and gray flats. We were the only ones in here—granted, it was two in the afternoon—but I couldn’t imagine this place was bustling at any other time. When she approached us, her kind smile made my shoulders slump. I hadn’t realized I was tense.
“Hey there, folks. What can we get started for ya?” She had a Southern accent, which seemed misplaced all the way up north, but I sometimes forgot that Montana was full of cowboys and working ranches. A slight quiver in her voice also showed her age.
I grinned before speaking. “May I get a glass of sweet tea, and do you mind me asking, what’s the soup today?”
She pulled the pen from her hair and wrote on a notepad. “Yes, ma’am, you sure you can. And the soup is creamy tomato. My husband is the grumpy old man that greeted y’all. He makes everything from scratch. People come from all over these mountains to eat here. But don’t tell him that; we can’t let him get a big head.”
I winked at her and said, “No worries; your secret’s safe with me.” My stomach growled, and my hand flew down to hold it. Embarrassed, I said, “Sorry. Any way I can get a grilled cheese with that if it’s not too much trouble?”
“Of course, honey.” Her twang rolled off her tongue. “And how about you, sir? You ready to order?” She turned her attention to Dawson.
He looked up at her, and I saw his features soften for the first time. “I’ll have what she’s having and a glass of water with lemon, please.”
She wrote down his order and winked at him before walking away.
When he shifted his gaze toward me, his eyes went hard again. Geez, it was starting to grate on my nerves that he was incapable of giving me even half of a smile. I’d been nothing but nice to him thus far. Peeling my eyes away from his, I picked up the napkin in front of me and started folding it over and over. I compulsively fidgeted when I didn’t know what to do with myself. I could feel his gaze burning into me, and I knew he was watching my hands. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to keep this up and remain in complete silence before I’d burst. He might be able to go without speaking, but I couldn’t. Being alone and not having anyone to talk to was one thing, but this was a whole other ballgame that I didn’t think I could play.
“Sooo . . .” I cleared my throat. “Ever been to Big Sky?”
“Nope.”
“If you’ve never been, why do you want me to drop you off there?” I still restlessly folded my napkin. It was starting to shred.
“I never said I wanted you to drop me off in Big Sky.”
I pried my eyes from what I was doing. “Then where were you going?”
His slightly parted lips sealed shut. Did that mean he wasn’t going to answer? Several beats passed before the woman came over to our table and set our drinks down.
“Here y’all go. And your food will be out in a couple of minutes.” Before she walked away, she looked at the state of my napkin. “I’ll bring a few extra ones out with your food.”
I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. “Thanks.”
When she walked away, I went back to my last question. For whatever reason, I was curious and didn’t want to let it go. “What were you traveling to Big Sky for?”
He leaned forward, and his nearness caused the scent of him to drift my way. I did everything I could to prevent myself from inhaling more of him than what I really wanted to. It should be a sin for a man to smell that good. Placing his forearms on the table, I noticed a tattoo on his left arm. The sleeve of his hoodie had ridden up, but not enough for me to see what it was or how far it went.